


Memorabilia

by Llama1412



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e14 The Christmas Invasion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-22
Updated: 2011-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23501470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Set during the end of the Christmas Invasion, while the Doctor is picking out his new look. The Doctor says his final goodbye to too many companions lost.
Kudos: 3





	Memorabilia

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to livejournal and whofic.com in 2011. Posted unedited.

His regeneration had been rough. No one was supposed to look into the Time Vortex, not even a Time Lord. It was amazing he was even able to regenerate.

But he was. It hadn't been fun, certainly, but here he was, alive and with Rose. Only Rose. Everyone else had died. Daleks didn't believe in mercy and the screams he'd heard over the comm system left him with no doubt of the destruction he'd left behind.

But there was no time to dwell on that. He barely had the time to get his feet under him. Earth was in danger and Rose needed him.

He was good at being needed. That was why he moved so much. Being needed was easy, he knew how to respond to that. But after the war was over, after the revolution was won, the plague stopped, the wrong set right, then what? He wasn't any good at that bit. People wanted him to stick around while they rebuilt and made their own way. They wanted to show him what they could do. But they didn't need him. And he hated not being needed.

Maybe that's why he was dawdling here in the wardrobe room. While he was shuffling through clothing, trying to find the right look, he could pretend that it was important. Christmas Dinner with Rose, Jackie, and Mickey...it was a nice thought. But that was just the problem. He didn't deserve nice. He'd been too cowardly to kill the Daleks. He'd let all those people die for nothing and then he'd run away again, just as he always did. He'd left Rose lost and scared while he regenerated and then he couldn't even save those Sycorax. They'd been trying to cannibalize the planet, sure, but they hadn't deserved death. And he couldn't even save them from that.

He shook his head and shoved his way passed one clothing rack and onto the next. These were the clothes of his past companions now. He squeezed his eyes shut. So many of them he couldn't save. So many of them that he'd left in the lurch. All of them that he'd hurt.

He brushed his hands over each article of clothing until he reached the wool WWII RAF coat Jack had favored when he'd come aboard. He hadn't been wearing it when he died.

The Doctor clenched the sleeves. This man had given his life to buy the Doctor time, time he'd wasted. And he would be buried back here, along with the rest of his old companions.

It wasn't right. None of it was right. He'd made a life of uprooting other people's and turning their heads with fantastical adventures. What was left in the end? After they died, what was there to remember them?

But that was the thing, wasn't it? The Doctor refused to forget them, and yet he shoved the memories as far away as he could. It hurt too much and so he let all the incredible deeds they all did go unremembered.

He pulled the coat off its hanger and put it on. His reflection in the mirror was laughable. He was far too skinny for this broad coat and anyway, the military look had never suited him. He pulled it closed across his chest anyway.

The man who should be wearing this coat wasn't here, but the Doctor hadn't forgotten him yet. He ducked his head and breathed in deep. The 51st -century pheromones Jack had positively oozed still lingered. Silly humans...as if Jack had needed more sex appeal. The boy had been far too attractive for his own good and he knew it.

The Doctor smiled, recalling Jack's ludicrous stories. He'd never known a man who had so much trouble keeping his own clothes on.

The TARDIS hummed at him, reminding him of his original objective here. She was subdued and he could hear her reluctance to disturb him. She missed Jack, too.

He stroked his hand over the wall. It was incredible how well Jack had connected with his dear ship. The TARDIS liked all of his companions, of course, but so few of them had been able to understand her. Jack only had the barest ideas, of course – the true nature of the TARDIS was well beyond any human's comprehension. But Jack had done well for his limited faculties and the TARDIS appreciated that.

He sighed. Jack would be missed, but he couldn't linger here. There was nothing that could bring Jack back and wallowing in the loss wouldn't help anything, just as it hadn't helped before.

Carefully, he stripped out of the coat and draped it over a coral strut. He almost wished he could keep it, wear it with the same confidence Jack once had. But no, Rose would recognize it and ask awkward questions and besides, it really did look ridiculous on him. No, he couldn't wear it. But he could keep it here, with all the others. The TARDIS would always keep it in good condition. It would stay here and hold the memories and it would still be here when he lost the next companion, for he knew he would.

He patted the coat gently and pulled on more suitable pieces of clothing. This was enough wallowing. He'd had his goodbye already. His loss hurt, but it wasn't the first and it would be far from the last. For now, Jack had died to save the Doctor and to save Rose. He would honor that as best he could.

Maybe dinner with Rose and her family wouldn't be too bad.


End file.
